The Castle Thorne (Book One of The Candlelight Series)

Hunted Blood

The nights grew colder as winter fell. One evening, Lena was tending to the garden as the sun set, painting deep gray hues across the cloudy sky. Thunder sounded, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around her against the cold. Her crystal blue eyes matched the surrounding snow glittering in the late cool sunlight. She held a rose in her hand, snow crystalized along the edges of the petals. Castellan had been with her, but he had gone in early. Lena had stayed to watch the sunset but found that the colors were disappointingly gray. Everything seemed to be in a gray hue at the Castle Thorne, save for the scarlet and wine roses.

The trees were bare, their dark skeletons silhouetted against the deepening sky. Lena sighed. She felt comforted by his presence but longed for her parents and the joy of her youth. The past was where she lived in reverie—where the happiest of her memories lived in harmony. There was no peace, no joy in the life she lived now.

The air was cold despite the thin fur around her shoulders, and she shivered. Her hands were nearly as pale as the snow. It was time to go inside, before she caught her death of cold and froze in the dark winter night. Making her way along the path, she touched the burgundy blossoms gently. The garden was expansive, and it took several minutes for her to reach the servant's entrance and unlock the door.

Once inside, she entered the main hall, the grand doors looming large above her head and crystal chandeliers decorating the carved and painted ceiling. The images painted there were of winged cherubs carrying red roses. A beautifully ornate grandfather clock stood at the corner of the hall, and its loud tick comforted Lena, reminding her of the clock she once had in her bedroom as a child. Through an arched doorway to her left was the ballroom, which she had never seen in use at Castle Thorne. Lord Thorne hardly seemed like the type to enjoy himself at a ball; the servants rarely saw him as it was, as he was secluded in his study.

As a child, Lena enjoyed many balls and such parties at the Castle Arden. The white marble walls were always hung with decorative violet banners and gold cloth, and there were flowers everywhere. There was so much life and happiness in her old home; the Castle Thorne seemed like a haunted crypt in comparison. And considering the many deaths, Lena thought, it truly has become a graveyard.

The grounds of Castle Thorne actually included a graveyard, a crypt for the family Thorne. She had noticed it as she had traveled to the castle, admiring the enormous stone tombs decorated with the statues of silent angels, carved with stone flowers. An enormous fountain sat in the center of the graveyard, but it no longer flowed; it was silent and still as ghosts.

Gradually, Lena sensed another presence alone with her in the castle. It was dark, menacing, and filled her with fear. She felt it in the shadows in the corner of her eye, always just out of reach from her senses. A presence of death and decay, of destruction and demise. Her steps quickening, she shook off thoughts of ghosts and continued past the ballroom. As she made her way, candles flickered out behind her, leaving a trail of darkness in her path. The presence also increased its speed, and Lena knew that if she chanced to run she would be caught by the demon. She would be the next death that occurred.

Terror froze her blood, but she remained calm, seeking the solace of her room and the locked door. Inside she knew she could not escape; she refused to believe that her fate was sealed. She rounded the corner, knocking over a table with an expensive vase. It fell to the floor, crashing and breaking into several pieces in the dark. The resounding sound echoed in Lena's mind. Behind her, she heard a low growl.

Taking a deep breath, she began climbing up the stairs. She could now hear the swish of the creature's fur, see its glowing red eyes. It reminded her of a hellhound, a demon from the depths of the underworld, like those pictured in the fairytale books she read as a child. Her terror increased, and it took all of her willpower not to run from the monster stalking her. A single step later, and the beast had pinned her to the floor.

The monster was enormous, twice her height. It stood like a man hunched over, but its visage was that of a wolf. Mangy fur covered its body and its maw was full of razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the pale moonlight. Lena froze in horror, gazing into its fiery red eyes. It reached out its claws to her face. Moving quickly, she turned her face away, but not before three large gashes pierced the flesh at her cheek and ran down almost to her neck. She cried out but the sound was stifled by the monster's fierce growls. Grabbing a nearby candelabra, she thrust it into the mouth of the beast as it was going for her neck. While the creature was distracted, Lena scrambled from her place on the floor, rushed into her quarters, and hastily locked the door behind her.

Leaning against it, she put a hand to her wounds and found scarlet blood dripping from her fingers. Looking into the small silver mirror she had brought with her from home—it was one of her only possessions from her childhood—she noticed three thick claw wounds in her pale skin. Her dark hair and the bright blood contrasted, leaving her with a dark appreciation of the almost morbid beauty. Behind her, she could hear the monster scratching on the door, the scraping sound of wood making her wince.

Slowly, carefully, she went to her washbasin, still watching the door. The creature growled twice more, then stalked down the hallway. Lena breathed a sigh of relief. Soaking a washcloth in water, she dabbed the wounds, hissing in pain. They were still bleeding fast, but she knew she had been lucky. Even though she understood they would scar, it was better than getting mauled and killed by the beast. She thanked heaven that she was still alive.

The monster had come for her, and she had survived. She had been hunted, but she was alive.

The wolf was next.